


silver laurels and honeysuckle smiles

by nutellamuffin



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Caspian Is A Mess, Drabble, Edmund Knows This, Engagement, Fluff, I mean, Lucy and Edmund stay in Narnia, and because it's adorable, and you can't stop me, because I said so, bold of you to assume drinian wasn't the first to know, i mean fiancé, i'm sprinkling him in there because i have a soft spot for him, ignoring canon (again), lucy and caspian are best buds, of course he does, on everything, that's his husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutellamuffin/pseuds/nutellamuffin
Summary: caspian pulls out a ring, and edmund says, “you’re joking.”
Relationships: Caspian/Edmund Pevensie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 190





	silver laurels and honeysuckle smiles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MostlyFandomTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyFandomTrash/gifts).



caspian pulls out a ring, and edmund says, “you’re joking.”

the king seems to choke on his own air as he blinks, trying to conceal it, and his mind immediately begins to rationalize. perhaps this is how edmund deals with surprises, _you’re joking_ and then, hopefully, _yes_?

but edmund isn’t grinning. he’s staring at caspian, blankly, and there isn’t a flicker of happiness in his expression. not even surprise, just . . . staring. caspian stays where he is for a few moments, and then stumbles to get to his feet.

* * *

**_one day earlier._ **

caspian was halfway into wedding plans- or, rather, halfway into wedding daydreams- when drinian asked him, a barely there, half-smile on his lips in the way that he did, if he had a ring.

the seafarer let his head thunk against his desk before answering, exasperated, “no. and i’m not sure where i’m going to get one, either.”

and drinian, who had known him as a captain, as a seaman, and now, as his advisor, merely slid a teasing tone into his voice as to not stress caspian further and informed him, “you do realize, it can’t be so hard for the king of narnia to have a ring made?”

caspian looked up from where he was seemingly deciding his own death as he stared at the wood of his desk, and was met with the same barely there, half-smile, and he both hated it and was grateful for it in that moment. a full minute passed before caspian mused, albeit a little abashed, “oh, well. i suppose we should get on that, then.”

“not us.” drinian said, coming over to his desk and shuffling the pieces of parchment aside. he pushed a new, blank one towards him, and went the length of putting the quill in his hand. “ _you._ i’d suggest you get sketching for the jeweler.”

“you aren’t going to help me?” caspian asked, raising his head in the direction of his advisor, who seemed rather pleased with himself as he left the room.

“well, it’s not my wedding, is it? only you would know what _high king edmund_ would like,” he hummed, turning around in the doorway to wink at him before shutting it on his own face.

caspian sighed, and stared at the empty parchment for a long moment. in theory, he _did_ know what edmund would like.

in theory.

and it seemed, despite all his bright ideas, he couldn’t come up with a single one to design just a damned ring. he pressed his palms into his eyes, and was about to begin greatly doubting his decision, when he opened them again to land on a book on a shelf across the room from him.

not just any book. the book he had sworn by until he was nine years old, the fairytales he had learned were real- the legends that were in the rooms next to him, even. all at once, he realized he didn’t truly need drinian’s help, after all.

caspian rocked on his heels in front of lucy’s door, and wrung his hands behind his back. the high queen had never been a source of anxiety for him, not ever- in fact, she was a relief of that, more often than not, from everyone else.

but even lucy had given a warning when she first found out about the two of them. ( _don’t break his heart, caspian,_ she’d said, putting her hand overtop his own, _i’m trusting that you won’t._ ) 

and the seafarer often ended up being wound in his own head sometimes, which led him to where he stood now, the thought rolling through his mind that lucy was _bound_ to say no- lucy, mind you, who had encouraged caspian to pursue his feelings in the first place, ( _you should tell him you love him, you know, i know for certain that he loves you,_ ) who had made sure there was no brash reactions to their relationship, who would probably help design the wedding venue.

you could not convince him, in his pre-engagement state, that the lucy who had done all of _that_ was about to tell him he couldn’t marry her brother.

and when the door opened, and lucy flashed caspian her signature lucy smile; one that seemed to calm oceans themselves, to lure creatures of every kind to hold her hand, to make sunshine peek through the clouds on a stormy day; somehow, he was still worried as ever.

“ah, lucy,” caspian began, realizing that he hadn’t planned a _single_ word of this, “i have . . . something to ask you.”

lucy merely raised her eyebrows, her smile still teasing at her lips, and tilted her head. “something you’re rather nervous about, i can tell. want to sit down?”

caspian blinked from his spot, and before he could answer she stepped aside, inviting him in. and so he nodded once, took a deep breath, and did so. he exhaled, surprising himself by the shakiness of the action, and folded his hands in his lap in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

“you see, it’s . . . about-”

“edmund?” she asked, raising both her eyebrows. her eyes were alight in a way that only lucy’s eyes could be, and it stopped caspian in his tracks. he seemed to relax a little, somehow, as if perhaps her mere smile or her sense of knowing calmed him.

“yes. how did you know?”

and then she laughed, and caspian’s first thought was that he had gone wrong somewhere, _because he didn’t recall saying anything funny,_ until she continued, “well, when you come to my door with your fingers in a knot and say you have something to ask me, it usually concerns him.”

caspian blinked. and lucy was still grinning, her honeysuckle, fireplace grin, and smoothed her skirt over her legs. he decided, in that moment, that what he was going to say next probably wouldn’t come as a surprise either.

“i wish to marry him.”

“i figured as such.”

and despite the fact that he just guessed so, he still asked, “you did?” because no one can ever doubt the abilities of lucy pevensie.

then, she laughed, and it sounded like the bells ringing during spring, and she shook her head. “of course i did, caspian. you never come to me for advice anymore, you no longer need it, and i figured out a long time ago you’d be the type to ask for my permission. the next time you came to me with a question, it would surely be that one.”

after a beat of silence, and a dusting of pink that was rather prominent on caspian’s cheeks, she added, “in a word, yes. you may.”

caspian’s grin in that moment was much like hers, (except his didn’t charm forest creatures as much as unwanted suitors,) and who was going to stop him when he drew lucy into his arms for a hug?

she laughed as he spun her around, her arms around his shoulders, and she nearly tripped on her own skirts as he set her down. “i’ll do this right, i promise,” he insisted, and before lucy could tell him that he didn’t need to assure her, he had already kissed her cheek and rushed out of the room.

safe to say that caspian’s ring sketch wasn’t the epitome of professional. the jeweler was already surprised at the _king of narnia_ coming to her stand in the markets of telmar, a hood pulled over his head- much less that she would likely be among the first to know if his engagement, who hadn’t even seen him up close before.

caspian hadn’t wanted to go to one of the royal jewellers, there was no guessing who they might tell, or who _caspian_ might have to tell before getting to them. this way, his engagement had no ties to the castle- in a looser sense- and no one had to know about it but him, lucy, drinian, and . . . well, the sign said _juliet’s jewellery._

“ah, your majesty,” she began, tracing her finger across the drawing- it wasn’t exactly _primitive,_ she could make out the shape and loosely what he wanted, but it wasn’t every day the king of narnia wanted an engagement ring. she supposed she might as well get it right. “do you happen to have a reference, or . . . a more detailed idea of what you’d like? i can take details orally.”

caspian glanced behind him at the bustling streets. so far, no one had paid all too much attention to him, which was already giving him a good feeling about what was to come. everything seemed to be falling into place. he ruffled around in his cloak, pulling out what seemed to be a page ripped from a book, and set it down on the counter.

it was a drawing from what seemed to be a mythology book, depicting peter, susan, edmund, and lucy being crowned after the first battle of beruna. in particular, edmund, who was wearing a laurel of silver leaves around his head, that glittered in the lighting with the accents added to the page.

juliet took it for a closer look, holding a magnifying glass in front of her eye. caspian’s eyebrows drew together, and he asked, tentatively, “is it . . . too much?”

the jeweller merely smiled, lowered the looking glass, and put her hand over his own on the counter. “your highness, it’s going to be beautiful.”

the seafarer paced around his room, ring box in hand, and had been doing so for so long that drinian was convinced he was wearing the stone of the floor away. occasionally, he’d take a deep breath, and you’d think that would be the end of it. then, he’d simply pause, and continue to pace.

“i’m not sure what you’re so worried about.” drinian said plainly, leaning against his wooden dresser. “don’t you think he’ll say yes?”

“well, that’s what we’re hoping.” caspian muttered, turning the box in his hand where he had them folded behind him.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

caspian looked at him as if he was insane, before resuming his dreadful pacing. “of course i do. that’s sort of the point of all of this, you know.”

“and he loves you?”

“well, i would hope so.”

“it’s been years.”

“he still could say no.”

drinian sighed, pushing himself off the wall. he went over to the seafarer, and all but grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing. _“caspian.”_ he could practically feel the anxiety under his skin as he held him in place, “if he loves you as much as i know he does- which, is rather plain to _anyone_ who sees you two- then he’ll say yes.”

caspian merely stared at him for a long moment, before asking, “and if he says no?”

drinian rolled his eyes, let go of caspian, and gave him a rather firm “pat” on the back- halfway shoving him out the door as he did so. “you’ve brought peace to all of narnia, and you’re worried about proposing to a man.”

“not just any man, you know.”

“caspian. _get on with it_.”

“right.”

* * *

caspian pulls out a ring, and edmund says, “you’re joking.”

the king seems to choke on his own air as he blinks, trying to conceal it, and his mind immediately begins to rationalize. perhaps this is how edmund deals with surprises, _you’re joking_ and then, hopefully, _yes_?

but edmund isn’t grinning. he’s staring at caspian, blankly, and there isn’t a flicker of happiness in his expression. not even surprise, just . . . staring. caspian stays where he is for a few moments, and then stumbles to get to his feet.

“i’m sorry, i thought- i wouldn’t want to- perhaps we’re not ready for this,” he stumbles over his words, and he mentally curses himself for it. his hands begin to shake as he goes to try and slip the ring back into his pocket, into the box, _anywhere_ but in front of edmund. but when he looks up from his haste to get away, he finds the just down on one knee.

and this time he is grinning, so widely that his eyes seem to be sparkling, and caspian doesn’t say a thing. but who is he to deny the smile tugging at his lips?

“proposing to me while i had a ring in my pocket. had to get a one up somehow.” edmund flashes his canines and caspian really laughs, ignoring the watery tones in the sound, and forces himself to roll his eyes because come on, he has a reputation. ( _a reputation of being a soft old sap,_ edmund would say, leaning back in his chair and putting his legs up on caspian’s desk during one of his many quests to get him to stop working for five minutes.)

edmund looks at caspian expectantly until he says, forcing exasperation in his voice, “oh, all right. i suppose.”

if edmund’s grin could get any wider, it just did, and he gets to his feet to slide the ring on caspian’s finger. the seafarer takes out the ring of his own- silver, as well, in the shape of a small laurel with miniscule gemstones on three of the leaves- and forces edmund to hold still as he slides it on.

“you gave me a heart attack.”

“aw, no need to get worked up over little old me.”

caspian is sitting on the floor of lucy’s bedroom, nearly two days later, and the fire is crackling quietly, barely over the sound of their own voices. they’re laughing, telling jokes that only they would find funny, spinning tales of a life they never lived- or maybe they did, who’s to say? at some point, she falls into a silence with her honeysuckle smile on her lips, and glances to his hand resting on his knee.

“i’m assuming it went well, did it?” she asks, quietly, as if the castle could be listening. in her eyes she holds sunshine, in her heart she holds a special place for both her brother in another room and the one sitting next to her.

the seafarer grins down at his hand- the silver ring, branded with a curve of a wave design on the front- and brushes his hair out of his face.

“yes.” he answers, turning it in the light of the fire, and curls his hand with the weight of it around his finger. “i think it went rather well.”


End file.
